


Senses

by Jw_sh



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Werewolf John Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-04-07 19:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19091779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jw_sh/pseuds/Jw_sh
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson have been called to the English countryside to investigate a deadly local myth. What they find changes everything.





	1. Chapter 1

Watson turned and scanned the woods behind him. Nothing was there, just the dark canopy and patches of light coming from the moon. The full moon hung low in the night sky. _Right, nothing there. You’re just imagining it._ He thought. With a shaky, nervous breath, he continued his brisk walk through the woods. _The village should be close now._  Watson told himself. He didn’t like the panicked feeling the woods were giving him. He usually enjoyed his nightly walks, but the strange countryside was not peaceful at all. "Damn it Holmes, if only you were here." he whispered. Two days ago, a gentleman called upon Mr. Holmes’s help. His farm, and the tiny village that he lived in, were having many sighting of a “terrifying, heartless beast”. This creature has been slaughtering livestock and, until last month, had left the villagers alone. The bloodied body of an old drunken man was found in the ally behind the local pub, causing many to fear the creature was out for human blood. When examined by a doctor in town, he noted two deep cuts on his jugular, the cause of death; blood loss. Any man could have created those slashes. No sign of the “creature” had been seen since. But the family of the murdered man are certain it is still out there, certain it is in fact an animal, not a man using the livestock deaths as a clever cover for murder. _And now here I am, looking for something that doesn’t even exis-_  His steps faltered, breath hitched. A low, deep growl echoed in the black woods. He didn’t stop to look for the source of the sound, his steps hurried. Behind him, the growl turned into loud huffs and the thundering sound of large feet hitting the soft ground. Watson ran as fast as he could, leaping over logs, and brushing aside low branches. He had never been more afraid in his life. He was being hunted by the very being he denied existed just a moment ago. He chanced one glance at whatever was pursuing him. His blood ran cold as he glimpsed the fiery eyes of a large beast. Watson stumbled and fell, hitting the ground with a hard thump. He moaned as he rolled over onto his side, clutching is bruised ribs. His mind was a cluster of panic and overwhelming fear. One thought went through his mind as he curled into the fetal position, waiting for the beast to pounce: _I’m going to die tonight._

****  
The gangly, grizzled beast stalked over to the shaking body of John Watson. It quite resembled an unusually large wolf, with dark brown eyes. His body was tall and lanky, with a slim build standing just above the height of a man. His fur was a dark gray, tinged with black on the tips, and multiple patches missing all over it’s midsection. The creature seemed to enjoy watching the scared man tremble in fear at his very presence, taking its time stalking around his prey. The beasts’ nose twitched, breathing in the scent of his victim. With one final snarl, he jumped towards Watson, and sunk his sharp teeth into the man’s right shoulder.

****  
Watson thought getting shot during his time in the service was painful, but feeling the teeth of a giant wolf-creature crush down on his shoulder was much, much worse. He let out a deafening scream. Watson tried striking and kicking the powerful beast, but it’s jaws never opened. Watson could feel the blood rushing out of his body and pooling beneath him, getting smeared around by his struggling. With an ugly snarl, the beast suddenly let go, only rake its claws through Watson’s chest and thigh. With both arms now free, Watson scrambled for his midsection, feeling for what he hoped would save his life. Just as the beast lunged for a third time, Watson felt the revolver in his waistcoat and drew it out. He fired his pistol as fast as he could, quickly landing three shots to the beast’s chest. The wolf yelped in pain, and turned to escape the gunfire. Watson fired two more rounds, but the beast had already disappeared into the darkness of the forest. With a pained gasp, he dropped his trusted gun and struggled to sit up. His shoulder was on fire, and his whole front was covered in blood from the wolf’s razor-sharp claws. Even if he had managed to drive the beast away, he was now going to die of blood loss. Watson rolled onto his back, feeling weaker every ticking second. He wasn’t going to fight his eminent death much longer, he was too tired. His body shook uncontrollably, and his eyelids sunk closed. _Holmes, if only you were here…_  
****

Holmes, surprisingly, was fast asleep in one of the rooms above the town inn. There was a quaint pub downstairs that served food as well as alcoholic drinks. The sleeping detective tossed and turned in his slumber. With a distressed gasp, he jumped awake, a cold sweat settled on his body. His breath was shallow and quick; he had a nightmare. Holmes was disturbed by his dream, quickly fading away as he tried to remember what it was. But the feeling of unease stayed with him, something wasn’t right. He looked over to his left, expecting to see his loyal partner and friend asleep in the other bed. Watson was not in his bed, and not anywhere in the room. _His bed bed is misshapen, he left in a hurry. Probably getting a drink because he couldn’t sleep._  he thought. Holmes jumped out of bed and exited his room to go find Watson. Oddly enough, his friend wasn’t downstairs in the bar either. Holmes paced the length of the bar, growing ever more impatient with each step. After a few minutes of thinking, he let out a frustrated sigh. _I shall just go find him, we have work to do._  He started to make his way through the partially crowded pub, when suddenly a young boy barged through the door. The boy, approximately 14 years of age, laid his eyes on Holmes and exclaimed, “Are you Mr. Holmes, sir?” Holmes nodded. _This might be exciting._ He thought. “Sir, your needed at the Denvir Farm. They found something you might want to see.” The boy said. P _ale skin, sweat on brow, quick shallow breaths. He ran here, also in shock. Shock from something traumatic. Interesting._ “Well what are you standing there for boy, lead the way!”

****  
The boy lead Holmes from the pub to the Denvir Family Farm. The walk was long, and the sun was just starting to rise when they made it to the property. Holmes acknowledged the dark forest on the edge of the farm, with the woods following the road for who knows how far. “They are back here, sir.” The boy led Holmes to a small livestock shed, where two men stood waiting with saddled horses. “Mr. Holmes, I presume.” The oldest man said with a small bow. “We know why you are here in the countryside, the beast is real. Our cattle have been the victim of it many times.” “We will see about that.” Holmes snipped. The older man huffed, but handed the reins of a dun mare to him. “We heard something earlier this evening, deep in the woods. Screaming, and gunshots. I know the beast is out there, and his second victim is out there too.” The old farmer climbed onto his horse with a glare and started towards the forest. The second man, probably the son of the eldest farmer, didn’t say a word and trotted his horse to catch up. _Most definitely interesting._ Holmes thought as he climbed up into the saddle.

***  
Even with an early morning sun, the tall canopy of the forest created a dark atmosphere. The air seemed more chilled, and the forest held little sound other than the hooves of 4 horses. “How large is this forest?” Holmes asked after minutes of silence. “No one knows for sure, we don’t enter the woods unless we have too.” The middle-aged man said. Holmes nodded. He was suddenly very unnerved by the thought of not being in the presence of Watson. “Did you see a man walk down the road last night?” He asked anxiously. The men shook their heads, but the boy cleared his throat, “I saw a gentleman walking down the lane earlier this evening. He waved at me while I was pulling water out of the well.” Holmes’s blood suddenly ran cold, his mind a flurry of worry. Watson always carriers his revolver, and he enjoys going for his evening strolls. _Watson, where are you?_  Holmes thought as he kicked his horse to a trot.

***  
_Birds chirping, what a lovely sound in the morning._  Watson thought as he left his eyes closed to enjoy the wonderful sounds of nature. His nose caught the smell of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He sniffed some more before he realized what he was doing. _What am I doing? Where am I? I am laying on the ground?_  Watson snapped his eyes awake, his peaceful daze now gone. He moaned as he lifted his head to look around, his skull was absolutely pounding. He was on the ground, in the woods, under a bush. _What the hell..._  He grunted in thought as he decided he couldn’t think without a much needed a drink. His mouth was dry and he felt very odd. As he struggled to stand, he tried to remember why his body was so sore. _I feel as if I were hit by a carriage!_  He thought to himself. He licked his lips, trying to get an awful taste out of his mouth. Something just wasn’t right, and his legs felt like they were stuck in tar. He looked down at his feet and nearly fainted at the sight. Instead of shoes, he saw large, furry paws. He scrambled back, his mind not quite registering what his eyes were seeing. Watson looked over his back, and to his horror, he saw a light brown coat and a tail. He stopped and closed his eyes, as tight as they would go. _This isn’t real, it’s just a dream. You’re hallucinating…. Right?_  He took a deep breath, and slowly opened his eyes again. _Remain calm._ He told himself as he slowly walked to the stream he could hear to his right. As he neared the running water, he hesitated, not sure he wanted to see his reflection looking back at him. _Don’t be ridiculous. You are just hallucinating from dehydration, that is all._ He huffed, and looked at the water. He wanted to scream at what he saw. An over-sized dog stared back at him, it’s coat the same chestnut brown as the hair on his once human head. Suddenly the events of the night unfolded in his memory. The growl, the large wolf chasing him, the attack, and the pain. He should’ve of died from all the blood he lost. Instead he woke up in a changed, foreign body. His legs gave out from underneath him as he tried to make sense of it all. _I’m a monstrosity! Oh, what will Holmes think of me?_  He shook his large head. _No no, he won’t recognize me like this. How will I communicate to him?_  Watson was lost in his thoughts, distraught that he may never see Holmes again. _I can’t think like this, be positive Watson! Get a hold of yourself._  With another deep breath, Watson sat up and looked at his paws. He lifted the left foot, wiggled his toes and flexed his claws. He set his paw down and looked over his shoulder. His body as the creature very much resembled his human attributes; dark brown hair, tall limbs, and a long torso. _I have a tail..._  He thought with a nervous chuckle as he slowly moved it back and forth. His tail was quite long, almost touching the ground when held limp. He looked at his tail for a bit, then stood to go back to the stream. This time he didn’t hesitate to look at his reflection. His ears were large and pointed, like most wild canines. A long, pointy muzzle protruded from his face. Watson lifted his lips, baring his teeth, his canines were razor-sharp. He lowered his lips, slightly unnerved at the sight of his own teeth. One thing hadn’t changed though, and those were his eyes. They were the same bright blue as before turning into a wild creature. _Well, the eyes are the window to the soul._  He thought with distaste. Watson was busy staring at his reflection when he heard a twig nap in the distance. He whipped his head up, suddenly frightened. _What if that is a person? What if they see me? I have to hide!_ Watson leapt over the stream with ease and ran through the underbrush. He found a large, low lying bush and squeezed underneath it. His heart was racing, and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he panted nervously. He sat low, listening. Watson didn’t hear anything else, and let himself relax. _I can hear so clearly!'_ He thought as he twitched his ears, listening to the sounds of the forest. He sniffed the air, smelling so many different things at once. Watson climbed out from underneath the bush, and decided to try out his new body. He sniffed the ground, the trees, anything he saw just because he could. He put his head to the wind, and felt like he could taste all the smells on the cool air. _This is amazing!_  He thought with glee. Watson turned his body to face the wind and just ran, his strides eating up the forest floor. He had never felt so free. Even in changed body, he felt at ease, like he had put on an old comfortable pair of shoes. Leaping over rocks and low branches, he ran faster and faster, pushing the limits of his new legs. Finally he stopped and stood panting, his breath hot. He sniffed the air again, and followed his nose to a creek, its water bubbling over rocks. Watson lowered his head and lapped up water until he felt he could vomit. Water had never tasted so refreshing. He looked up in the sky, and saw the sun was rising higher. _Late morning, maybe eleven o’clock._ He again thought of Holmes, suddenly ashamed of enjoying himself. _I need to be human! Not an over-sized monster…_  He thought bitterly. Watson’s ear twitched and he picked up an odd sound. He turned his head towards the sound and listened. He heard the sound of hoofed animals, and voices. _Horses!_  He jumped into a thicket and watched through the branches, the voices were coming right towards him. Only a few moments later, he saw four horses break through the trees and down to the creek for a drink. He lifted his nose to the air and inhaled. His chest filled with excitement and longing at the scent being brought to him by the morning breeze. He shuffled closer to the edge of the bush to get a better view of the men. He instantly recognized the scowl being worn by one of them. Holmes.

***  
Holmes was getting more and more anxious as the day went on. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and these countrymen fools hadn’t been able to prove any sign of the beast. _I could be looking for Watson right now!_ He thought. He is somewhere out here, I know it. Holmes looked over his shoulder, glancing into the dark woods. He felt uneasy, like he was being watched. The horses seemed to feel the same way, the large animals were jumpy and tried to bolt multiple times. They had been that way since stopping at the stream for a drink. Finally, after hours of riding through the dark forest, the eldest man pulled back on the reins of his steed. “Holmes!” he cried out. “Here’s your proof, right here!” The old farmer was pointing towards a break in the trees, a small meadow of sorts. Holmes kicked his horse to a trot, rushing to see what the man had led them too. What he saw took the breath right out of his lungs. His blood went cold. On the ground, in the middle of the meadow, was a pile of bloody clothes, seemingly shredded apart by sharp claws. Holmes jumped down from his horse, and knelt down next to the mess. He didn’t have to deduce who’s clothing it was, he already knew. The shiny metallic revolver laying on the ground a few feet away solidified his assumption. “See Mr. Holmes, I told ya something was out here last night. And whoever was unfortunate enough to meet the beast, well he’s gone for good.” The farmer said, kicking around Watson’s torn overcoat with his foot. Holmes grabbed the man’s foot and spat; “Do not touch anything you idiot!” The man jumped back, startled. Holmes stood and tried to make sense of what happened to Watson, and more importantly where he went.

****  
Watson followed Holmes and the three other men though the woods, being careful to not be seen or heard. The horses knew he was there, they could smell him on the wind. Holmes seemed to also be very uneasy, casually glancing over his shoulder to scan the woods around him. Sometimes Watson swore Holmes was staring right at him crouching low in the brush. _I can follow them all I want, but what do I do? It’s not as if I can just jump out and say hello!_ He growled sourly. The breeze blew against his muzzle, and he inhaled all the scents brought with it. He only had to smell it once to know it was there, suddenly more anxious to be following Holmes and his party. Gun powder. The men were armed, and would most certainly use it on him. Watson was deep in thought and almost forgot to hide himself when the group stopped abruptly. The oldest man out front called to Holmes, something about proof of a beast. Holmes trotted ahead into a small field, so Watson crept around to watch him from the flank. Watson looked out into the field and instantly recognized it; he was attacked by the beast here. It didn’t feel any less haunting in the daytime. Watson saw his clothing shredded on the ground, covered in blood. His revolver was in the grass a few feet away. Even he was disturbed by the sight of his own blood scattered across the meadow. Watson watched Holmes as he surveyed the torn clothing. He could feel and practically smell the stress coming off of Holmes. This made Watson very anxious, he couldn’t help but let out a small whine. He could barely keep himself from charging across the field to his beloved friend, to let him know he wasn’t dead after all. Watson started panting. _Holmes, Holmes I’m right here!_ Watson watched Holmes from his hiding spot. After twenty minutes of silence from him, Holmes turned to the other men and told them to set up camp. He declared he was going to stay out in the woods tonight, the second victim wasn’t dead, and he intended to find him. The eldest man started to argue, but Holmes was stuck on his decision. “You can stay out here tonight,” the man said, “But don’t expect us to come pick up the pieces tomorrow. That man is dead, and the beast is well alive.” The man tossed Holmes a small bag of supplies, and promptly turned his horse around to head back the way they came. The young boy also turned to leave. “I’ll stay with you Mr. Holmes. My name is Thomas. ” The thirty-something man said. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch tonight, I won’t have anymore people die out here from a ruthless animal.” The other two left, leaving Holmes and Thomas to set up camp.

***

It was soon dusk, and Watson had barely moved from his observation point. He watched as Holmes and Thomas pitched a small cloth tarp for their shelter, and started a large fire. The air was chilled and damp, they would need the warmth from the fire. Holmes hardly uttered a word whilst setting camp, and Watson could feel the tension in the air. With both men huddled around the fire, Thomas cleared his throat. “So, Mr. Holmes, why are you so certain the victim is alive? This is clearly the site of a vicious mauling. I mean hell, look at all of the blood.” Holmes stared at the flames, and didn’t answer. Thomas sighed and turned back to the flames. Watson sighed and rolled his eyes from his hiding spot.  _ Why am I still surprised he can’t carry on a conversation like a normal human being? _ Watson thought. Holmes was silent for a few more moments, then answered without looking up;  “There is no body, no remains. That means the victim is still out there, and I believe he is still alive.” Thomas glanced over at him and frowned. “Okay, there’s no body, but that doesn’t mean the man is alive. From the looks of it, he probably got dragged off and eaten or bled to death. It doesn’t make sense for the victim to be alive, nobody could survive that.” Watson listened intently, feeling the growing anger bubbling just beneath the surface of his friend. “The creature was shot three times with the man’s revolver. Assuming the victim is a good shot, which he is, the creature was wounded and ran off in that direction.” Holmes pointed to West. “The victim was not dragged away, there are no indications of the man being drug on the ground.” Holmes went quiet again. Thomas huffed. “How do you know so much about the victim from just his torn clothing and revolver. That’s impossible.” Watson felt what was coming, Holmes was about to explode. His hackles started to rise on his back, the tension in the air growing ever more prominent. “Because those clothes belong to my partner, Doctor John Watson.” Holmes turned to glare at the man, his eyes flashing with anger. “Watson is a soldier, his aim is true, and he is a fighter. He is NOT dead. He is out here somewhere, alone and wounded, and I intend to find him. Alive.” Thomas was stunned into silence. He turned his gaze back to the fire. “I’m sorry Mr. Holmes, I didn’t know.” He glanced back up at the now silent and fuming man. “We will find your friend, alive.” 


	2. Chapter 2

     It was now dark, probably one in the morning. The fire had died down, but Holmes was still sitting by the coals for warmth. Thomas was asleep in the makeshift tent. Holmes was deep in thought, thinking of the most logical answer to what had happened in the meadow. He was drawn out of thought by a low, soft growl in the woods around him. Holmes reached for Watson’s revolver, and prodded Thomas awake. Thomas groaned and turned away from Holmes. “Get up you fool! There is something out there!” Holmes whispered harshly. Thomas rolled over on his side and rubbed his eyes. “Are you certain you heard someth-” He was cut off by rustling in the underbrush, no more than 20 yards away. Thomas scrambled up and grabbed his rifle, aiming in the direction of the noise. The two men didn’t hear or see anything else for a moment, but Holmes felt like he was being watched, being taunted by something. Thomas let out a shiver, his rifle quaking. He was terrified. Holmes took a step forward. “Come out now, or we’ll shoot. You aren’t fooling us, you coward.” There was no reply. Holmes lowered the revolver. Just at that moment, a large creature crashed through the brush to their right, knocking Thomas to the ground. Thomas let out a scream and fired a round from his rifle. The beast knocked the gun aside with a large paw, and bit down on the screaming man.  Holmes jumped to the side and nearly stumbled to the ground at the sight before him. A large, gray wolf had Thomas pinned to the ground, tearing apart his throat. Thomas’s blood was spraying everywhere, his carotid artery torn open by the creature’s large teeth. Once the man stopped moving, the beast turned it’s gaze towards Holmes. Holmes couldn’t move, he was paralyzed with fear. The wolf stalked towards him, his head low, a sinister set of teeth gleaming in the dark. Holmes closed his eyes, hoping his end was as quick as Thomas’s. Before the beast reached Holmes, a loud snarl rolled across the field. Holmes turned his head and watched as another large animal charged across the meadow, and promptly tackled the gray wolf. The two animals fought furiously, biting and tearing away at each others flesh. Holmes watched on in amazement, still unable to move. After what seemed like hours, but truly mere minutes, the darker wolf pinned the gray creature to the ground, his jaws clamped around its neck. The gray beast fought as hard as it could, clawing and snarling at it’s opponent. But the other wolf held firm, and finally the beast stopped struggling. The brown wolf bit down even harder and shook his head, snapping the neck of the now dead gray animal. The beast opened it’s large jaws and dropped the body of his opponent. The wolf’s tongue lolled out of it’s mouth, breath puffing out into the chilled air. It turned and looked at Holmes, and started to slowly limp towards him. His body was covered in deep scratches and teeth marks. Holmes noticed the wolf favored it’s back right leg, even though most of it’s injuries were on the front half of it’s body. Holmes scooted backwards, still afraid of his possible impending death, although deep down, he felt something was off. The beast wasn’t showing signs of aggression, no teeth baring, no growling. Holmes stopped backing away, and watched the wolf slowly approach. Once it got within a few feet, the wolf stumbled and fell onto it’s side. Holmes barely breathed, not wanting to make any sudden movement. The large wolf didn’t get up, and it laid on it’s side panting in apparent pain. It’s furry body shuddered. Holmes waited a few moments in silence, then slowly crawled forward. He got within inches of the beast, he admired the lethal predator’s features. He had a dark brown coat, with long limbs and tail. On his right shoulder, scar tissue spider-webbed into an oddly familiar shape. The wolf let out a quiet whine, now aware of Holmes’s presence. Holmes glanced at the large muzzle full of sharp teeth. He then looked into the creatures deep blue eyes, a feeling of unease tugging at his mind. He was no longer afraid of the wolf, but oddly comfortable. Holmes was drawn to the creature’s eyes, the calmness of them. He reached out a hand and stroked the wolf’s flank. The wolf let out a pained sigh, and closed it’s blue eyes. Holmes suddenly jumped back as the body of the large beast shook, whimpers of pain escaping the wolf’s mouth.

 

****

    Watson had been dozing off underneath his bush when his nose caught wind of a familiar scent. His hackles rose in anticipation of the sour smell. Watson couldn’t place the scent, but knew he Holmes wasn’t safe with whatever was hanging around their camp. Watson stood and gazed through the dark brush. He heard Holmes wake Thomas, and then he heard a crash through the woods. He heard a gunshot and a yell, and saw the body of Thomas being crushed by the same ugly creature that attacked him. Watson launched out from his hiding spot, determined to protect Holmes from the same fate as Thomas. A loud snarl escaped from deep down in his chest as he closed the distance to the gray beast. Watson tackled the beast and fought with the fury of protecting his friend. Finally Watson saw his chance to kill the gray wolf and clamped down on its throat until it stopped moving. Watson hadn’t felt any pain until he dropped the body of the dead creature. His body was covered in lacerations and bite marks. But only one thing was on his mind, and that was to get to Holmes. He had to make sure his friend was unharmed. Watson’s vision swam as he tried to get to Holmes. He stumbled and fell, his body shaking. His insides were on fire. He watched Holmes as he crawled over to him with a look of awed curiosity. Watson was in agony, but didn’t move as to not scare Holmes. A whine pushed its way through his throat. Holmes glanced at his canine teeth, and quickly looked away. He then looked into Watson’s eyes, frowning in what seemed to be confusion. _It’s me! I’m alive Holmes!_ Watson screamed in his mind. Holmes then laid his hand on Watson’s flank, and he couldn’t help but sigh with a small amount of relief. At least Holmes wasn’t afraid of him as the beast. Suddenly Watson felt an agonizing pain all over his body. He couldn’t help but yelp as his bones and insides rearranged themselves, stretching and shrinking. His joints popped, and muscles rippled as they moved slowly back into the form of a human. Watson’s animalistic whines gurgled into human groans. Just as suddenly as it happened, the transformation was over. Watson laid on the ground shaking, his body covered in sweat, and his breaths jagged from pain. His body temperature was unnaturally high, this was made obvious by the steam rolling off his bare skin. Watson was barely conscious, seeing black spots in his vision. “Holmes…” he breathed out before he fell into unconsciousness.

 

****

     Holmes couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. The body of the wolf in front of him was _changing._ The dark brown fur retracted back into the skin, bones moved and reshaped themselves, and the shuddering form of the beast slowly changed into that of a man. Holmes watched the steam and sweat rolled off the transforming body. Even after the physical changes were done, the man still shook and breathed shallow, jagged breathes. Holmes hadn't realized he had been holding his breath, and exhaled sharply. He watched the man loose consciousness, and yet still couldn't move towards him. The man was his very own Dr. John Watson. His partner, and more importantly, his best friend. Holmes felt a flood of emotions; astonishment, worry, but above all, relief. Watson was not dead or gone forever, he was just _different_.  __"It is just Watson you fool, and he needs your help!" Holmes whispered to himself. He then stood and took off his long coat, and draped it over Watson's body, it was quite chilly in the dark forest. He leaned over and whispered into Watson's ear, "Hold on old boy, I will get you home. Your secret is safe with me." With this he stood and gathered the two tethered horses to head back to the little town.

      


	3. Chapter 3

     Watson again found himself in the dark, chilled forest. His body was slick with sweat and he was breathing heavy. He stood in one spot, feeling very exposed. He felt as if he was being watched.   _Run._ Watson went with his instincts and ran. He didn’t dare look behind him, he just kept running. He felt hot breath hitting his neck, and he pushed forward even faster. The running man suddenly fell and hit the ground. He was stunned from hitting his head and unable to get up to continue running. Watson shivered on the ground as sweat poured down his face. Whatever was going to happen, he accepted it as his fate. He closed his eyes shut, and covered his ears. The darkness surrounded him, and a loud rumble shook the ground, drowning everything else out. Watson screamed, fear taking over. A faint voice yelled over the noise. Watson focused on the voice, and everything else faded away. “Watson. Watson, wake up!” The voice urged. Watson opened his eyes suddenly and looked around. He was back in his room, in bed. Holmes was sitting on the bed next to him, with a hand on Watson’s shoulder. The smells of the familiar space calmed him. “You were having a nightmare, my dear friend.” Holmes said quietly as he drew his hand away from Watson’s uninjured shoulder. Watson let his head fall back on the pillow and let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry if I woke you Holmes, I’m alright….” Watson paused. He wiped sweat off his brow and sat up again.  “What day is it? How did I get here? What about the case-” Holmes interrupted Watson with a chuckle. “You don’t remember anything?” he asked. Watson went quiet, deep in thought. “I remember the forest, feeling afraid. I was attacked and lost a lot of blood. I woke up…” Watson looked away from Holmes, now staring at a very interesting stain on his blanket. _I as a wolf, an animal. He will think I’ve gone mad if I say it out loud._ They sat in silence for a moment. “Watson, it’s okay, I know.” Watson glanced back up, unease in his eyes. “You were… not yourself. But only in physical form, you had your mind. When the same beast that had attacked you came to eliminate Thomas and I, you protected me. Jumped right into the fight, never once did you hesitate or back down until the threat was gone. The hero, as always.” Watson shook his head. “No Holmes, I can’t account for myself when I was that beast. I’d like to just forget it ever happened.” He said anxiously. Holmes looked away and didn’t say anything. “You never answered how I got back here, or what day it is.” Watson stated after a moment. Holmes cleared his throat. “Well, after you turned human again, I knew I had to get you home. You seemed ill. You went in and out of consciousness.  I covered you with my coat, and we rode back into town. I told Mr. Denvir, the eldest gentleman, that he was right; the beast was real. I told him Thomas killed the beast and saved you, at the price of his own life. Mr. Denvir was obviously distraught, but I had more important things to attend too. I hailed for a carriage, and we rode all the way back to London. You have been resting for two days now.” They again sat in silence as Watson absorbed what Holmes just said. “And what of Thomas’s body?” Watson asked. Holmes scoffed. “You of all people would be more concerned of a dead man than more pressing issues. But, if you must know, I covered his body with the tarp we used as our tent. I told Mr. Denvir where the body was so he could retrieve it for a proper burial.”He said passively. Watson just sighed and rubbed his eyes. _Oh, Holmes…_ He thought.  Watson looked slightly disappointed, so Holmes decided to change the subject. He tapped the blanket where Watson’s torso was. “Let us change your bandages, shall we?” He said cheerfully. Watson moved his blankets aside and sat completely up. He looked down at his chest and torso, to see his whole upper body wrapped in bandages. As Holmes began unwrapping the bandages, Watson sat still in thought. “Are you in any pain, Watson?” Holmes asked as he worked. “No, not at all. I am sore, as if I had run a marathon. But not in pain.” He explained. With the last of the bandages off, Holmes examined the doctor’s wounds. “Hmm, interesting. Your wounds, even though they were very deep, have healed almost completely.” Holmes said. “Watson, those wounds should have been fatal.” Watson looked down at his chest and chuckled nervously. “I suppose you’re right Holmes, these wounds look to be weeks old, not days.” Holmes observed in silence, his ‘deducing’ face scrunched in deep thought. Without a word, Holmes began to re-wrap Watson’s chest. “What are you thinking, Holmes?” Watson asked. “Nothing important Watson. I suppose it is time for you to rest. I shall bring you some tea and perhaps, breakfast?” The doctor nodded in agreement. _Now that I think about it, I am absolutely starved!_ Holmes stood and stalked out of the room. Watson stretched, yawned, and laid back on his bed. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the past few days. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath through his nose. All the smells of his room hit his nose, he could even still smell Holmes’s sweet aroma. _Like a mix of honey and old paper._ He thought pleasantly. _Maybe this whole situation isn’t so bad..._ He let his mind, and senses, wander off into a deep sleep.

 

****

 

     Watson rested for the next day, and he took the bandages off his midsection when he woke that evening. His battle wounds had completely healed, and he felt more like himself. With a nasty hankering for some tea and biscuits, he decided it was time to come out of his room and stretch his legs a bit. He swung his legs out of bed and slowly walked out to the sitting area. He was expecting Holmes to be there, but his nose told him otherwise.  As he was standing there testing the scent of the room, another familiar smell wafted up the stairs with the sound of light steps. “Oh hello Dr. Watson!” A bright voice chirped. “ I brought some tea, dear. You must be starved! Come and sit, you need to rest.” She chided. He couldn’t explain the scent of Mrs. Hudson, he just knew she smelled like _home._ He shuffled over to his chair, and sat down with a heavy breath. _Tea smells amazing!_ He thought as his mouth watered at the thought of anything to put into his stomach. “Where is Holmes?” He asked as he sipped the hot perfection.  “He left early this morning. He didn’t say anything, other than to not wake you.” Watson shook his head, and his stomach growled loudly. Mrs. Hudson chuckled lightly and said; “Don’t fret about Holmes dear, he’ll come back eventually. You stay here and enjoy your tea, I’ll go make you something to eat.” He nodded and thanked her. He sat in his chair and looked out the window as he listened to Mrs. Hudson head downstairs. _What a lovely woman, Holmes should really be more kind to her._ He thought. He watched the many Londoners hurry their way down Baker St. as he sipped his tea. Mrs. Hudson came back up the stairs a while later with hot sausage rolls. He again thanked her, and she left him to eat in peace. Watson couldn’t help but practically inhale the delicious food. Just as he was finishing the last of his meal, he heard the door slam downstairs. The sound of footsteps leapt up the stairs, and Holmes hurried in. “Ah, hello Watson. It is good to see you up and about. I see Mrs. Hudson has been here.” He said as he gestured to the empty plate. “Yes, she was very kind as to make me some dinner.” Watson cleared his throat and asked awkwardly, “Does...does she know?” Holmes shook his head. “I told her we were ambushed, and that you had got the worst of the attack. Not a complete lie, honestly.” Watson nodded in agreement. Holmes grabbed Watson’s coat and top hat. “Do you feel up for an evening stroll, Watson?” He smirked and  stood to retrieve his walking stick. He slung on his coat and hat, and with a small smile, headed down the stairs. _I have been dying to get out! One can only tolerate so much time inside._  Watson thought gleefully as Holmes followed behind him. 

  
****

The evening air was cool and crisp, just as Watson liked it. He didn't tolerate the summer heat as well as others. "So Holmes, where have you been all day?" Watson asked as they briskly walked towards Hyde Park. Holmes did not answer at first. "I was doing some research." Watson frowned and glanced over at his friend. "Research on what? Did we get another case?" Holmes shook his head. "No new case. I was reading up on your... condition. No solid information, so I will have to gather my own." He stated cooly. Watson grabbed Holmes's sleeve and stopped abruptly. He gestured up and down his body with his free arm and glared at Holmes. "This...this is not a condition, Holmes. I am perfectly normal. Whatever happened to me in the country was..." He stopped for a moment, searching for the right words. "Well I don't know what it was, but I'm back to myself." Holmes didn't say anything, and continued walking. Watson inwardly growled in frustration and huffed out loud. _Did I not tell him I wanted to forget all of this!?_ He thought as he hurried to catch up with Holmes. They didn't speak for a while. Watson, contrary to his statement about being normal, was focused on his abnormal senses. As they got closer to the park, more and more people crowded the streets. It was quite overwhelming, trying to sort through all the smells he was detecting. Each person he passed had a particular, individual scent. The street itself smelled of sewage, people, horses, and other things that weren’t describable. All the while, the sounds around him were just as consuming. People talking, laughing, and just the general sound of the street were beginning to distress him. Beads of sweat ran down his face, even with the chilly weather. J _ust focus on walking..._ Watson tried to tell himself, but the overwhelming distractions were too much. He felt very on edge, and a peculiar sensation began prickling under his skin. _I need to get out of here, I’m going completely mad!_

****

Holmes knew Watson was upset with him, his stark outburst made that evident. He was also giving him the silent treatment, which was odd since the doctor talked almost all the time. _He will talk when he is ready, I suppose._ Holmes thought as he walked on. He occasionally glanced at Watson and as they neared the park, noticed Watson seemed irritated. His eyes darted around, glancing at the people pushing past him. Watson wasn’t usually so uneasy in large crowds, he generally followed Holmes right at his side. Holmes thought his behavior was odd, and decided to try something. As if he hadn’t irritated Watson enough already, Holmes suddenly stopped and felt Watson bump into his back. “Holmes!” He exclaimed. “Why on Earth…” Watson grumbled. He glanced at Holmes, but his attention didn’t stay on him for more than a few moments. Watson had an anxious air to him. “Watson, something is troubling you. What is it?” Holmes asked. Watson didn’t answer. Holmes grabbed his arm, “Watson?” The doctors breathing had elevated slightly, and he turned to Holmes. “I’m not sure, Holmes. I…I think I need to rest.” He said with a furrowed brow. The detective frowned, “Are you still upset with me, Watson? If you want an apolog-” He was interrupted by hushed growl from Watson. “The flat, Holmes. Please.” Holmes, stunned from the desperate tone in Watson’s voice, led him back to the flat in silence. Holmes noticed the doctor leaned on his shoulder more and more each step. The pair made it back to the flat, and Holmes practically carried the man through the door. As Watson stumbled up the stairs like a drunk, Mrs. Hudson popped her head out from her flat. “Is he alright, Holmes?” Holmes rolled his eyes, he didn’t need his landlady distracting him. “Not now, Mrs. Hudson. Leave us be!” He yelled down the stairs. She cursed quietly and shut her door. Watson shed his coat and hat, not bothering to hang them in their proper place. He fell to the sofa, and curled into a fetal position. He arms hugged his knees tight against his chest. “Watson, what is ailing you my dear friend?” Holmes asked. He knelt by his partner, a hand on his shoulder. Watson’s body shuddered at his touch, and his eyes were closed tightly. “Please, just leave me be for a moment.” Watson whispered. Holmes slowly stood and moved to his chair across the room. He sat down and waited.

****  
  
Watson urged himself to calm down; he was back in his flat, his home. The sounds had dulled, and the smells of the flat filled his nose. Even with the familiar environment, he still felt tingly and anxious, as if he was about to explode. His skin seemed to be crawling, his heart was racing, and Watson was sure he had never prespired so much in his life. He could feel Holmes across the room staring at him, and he swore he could hear the detectives slow steady heartbeat. He tried to ignore the sound, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything else. _I’ve gone mad, I’ve gone mad…._ He kept repeating in his mind. Watson let out a small groan as a new sensation came over him, not a pleasant one at that. His muscles spasmed, bones ached, and his insides shuttered. He hugged his legs tighter and clenched his jaw, hoping the spasms would stop. Watson couldn’t help but let out pained gasps. He suddenly heard Holmes jump up and felt hot breath next to his ear. “Relax, Watson.” He said softly and laid his hand on Watson’s tense shoulder.  “Stop fighting it.” Holmes’s touch calmed the muscle spasms and Watson unclenched his jaw. He drew a deep, shuddering breath in and let it out. As he breathed out, his body shifted. An uncomfortable, but not painful, change. The doctor felt his clothes tearing, and the couch now seemed to be much smaller than before. He opened his eyes to see his arms sprout dark brown fur, and his hands shortened to canine paws. His clothes tore and fell away, exposing the full dark coat. As much as he didn’t want to be that _thing_ again, he was already feeling relief. All the peculiar sensations and thoughts from before melted away. Holmes lifted his hand from Watson’s flank and stood. “Watson? Are you there my dear friend?” He asked hesitantly. Watson rolled his eyes and huffed. _Of course I am you pompous idiot._ He thought lightly as he rolled off the couch, stood, and then shook out his coat.  Holmes chuckled at the sight of the still prevalent sarcasm from the canine Watson. He stretched his front and back legs, ridding his muscles of any residual cramps. “Well Watson, at least we know what triggers your change.” Holmes said matter-of-factly. Watson cocked his head in apparent confusion. _What in the devil is he going on about?_ He thought. “You got overwhelmed out on our stroll, and in turn your stress levels were elevated. You also seemed to be very irritated, most likely from the impending physical shift your body was about to go through. I applaud you Watson, it would have been disastrous if you were to change from man to beast in the middle of the Baker street.” Watson shook his head at that. _Disastrous is an understatement!_ He thought anxiously. _I can never let anyone else see me this way._ “We will have to be very careful in the future dear Watson.” Holmes said. Watson nodded slightly in agreement and walked over to the window. It was now dark outside and there were few people left on the street. _Holmes is right. If I have to live with this, I must learn to control it. I can’t go around living in fear of losing myself in front of others._ Watson heard a drawer open from across the room and saw Holmes digging around in it. He knew what was coming. Holmes pulled out a roll of tailors tape. “Watson, would you mind if I were to measure you in this form? I need to record all I can about yo-” Watson sighed loudly and rolled his eyes again as he walked back over to the couch. “Great Watson, just stand right there!” Holmes exclaimed as he got to work. Watson stood still as a stone for him, letting Holmes enjoy himself for the time being. He was his best friend, and after all Holmes has done for him in the past days, he can stand still. 


End file.
